


like mother, like son (the daddy lessons remix)

by leftishark



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Food, Getting Together, M/M, Original Character(s), POV Outsider, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Loving Family, Shiro's Family (Voltron) - Freeform, loving if mildly invasive, single mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25301128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leftishark/pseuds/leftishark
Summary: Helen Shirogane gets a new neighbor. Her son gets a new boyfriend. Her whole world turns upside down.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron), Shiro & Shiro's Mother (Voltron), Shiro's Mother/OFC
Comments: 51
Kudos: 182
Collections: Sheith Remix 2020





	like mother, like son (the daddy lessons remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [daddy lessons](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14220915) by [tootsonnewts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/pseuds/tootsonnewts). 



> a remix of Ashley’s incredible Kolivan-as-Keith’s-uncle fic with an outsider POV swap! we got to hear Kolivan’s side of the story; this is Shiro’s mom’s. I highly HIGHLY recommend the original and hope that you enjoy this! 
> 
> thank you to Ashley and mod em for your patience <3 i’m sorry this is so late! thanks also to Sarah and Robin for helping me shape this up, Cruel for brainstorming and enthusiasm, and all the others who supported me through this.

Helen Shirogane finds out about her son’s new boyfriend and her whole world turns upside down.

She’s just minding her own business, living a simple life in a small house in a quiet neighborhood, doing IT for the life insurance company she’s worked at for two and a half decades. She has everything she needs: health insurance that covers her medications, an ex-husband with whom she’s on carefully polite speaking terms, a turtle that’s seen her through the best and worst of times, and a son she’s proud of in ways she doesn’t know how to say out loud. 

Things are fine. Good, really. 

And then her new neighbor moves in across the street, the first crack in the walls of Helen’s peaceful existence. No kids or anything, but the house has been empty since Shiro left to finish his degree, and it’s strange to see the _For Sale_ sign gone and the boarded-up windows clear. From under her sunhat, Helen cautiously eyes the dog on the rainbow striped leash, one of those little yappy types, as her neighbor walk over with a small stack of mail that was incorrectly delivered to her address, handing it over along with her name—Aiko—and a sunny smile.

There’s grocery store coupons, an ad for a local dental office, and at the bottom of the pile, a promotional pamphlet from Shiro’s university, the kind of thing Helen skims through every time for any mention of her son’s achievements before dunking it into the recycling. She flips it open, expecting little, but she stopes with a surprised smile on the inside flap—a picture of Shiro! 

He’s not alone, she realizes upon a second glance. There’s her baby boy in the library, framed by stained glass all picturesque, sitting _very close_ to another slighter man. The way they’re looking at each other (instead of their books) is unmistakable, soft gazes and softer smiles that are awkward to look at when you gave birth to one of these love birds. 

Helen generally tries not to be nosy, tries to let Shiro live his life, but the longer she looks at the picture, the more she’s convinced that the two of them are about to run off together before Shiro even finishes his degree, leaving him with some husband she’s never even met and no future to speak of. She has to say _something_.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Shiro sighs when she calls, phone clutched between her shoulder and ear while she waters the yard.

Helen squints. “You sure about that?” 

“Very sure.” Shiro sounds wistful, almost sad in a way that doesn’t make sense next to the picture of tender young love.

“You seemed awfully close and comfortable with each other.”

“We were studying together. No big deal.” 

“You do that a lot?”

“Yeah, I mean, we’ve been, you know…” he trails off, and she can imagine exactly how he must be waving his hand. “Hanging out. Talking.” 

_Hanging out_ , she mouths at the sweet peas. _Talking._ “Is that what the kids call it these days?”

“Mom,” he groans, exasperated now. 

“Shiro,” Helen huffs back. 

“What is this, some interrogation?”

 _Interrogation._ Helen wilts a little. She’s supposed to be Shiro’s mom, not some super spy intelligence agent. “I just want to know.” 

“About my non-existent love life?”

Helen frowns. Across the street, Aiko walks out with her ridiculous dog, giving a cheery wave before she turns down the street. Helen gives a frowny wave back. “So he’s not your boyfriend.”

“No,” Shiro says emphatically. Then, quietly, “I wish he was.”

There’s clearly a reason why they don’t talk about this stuff (see: accusations of interrogation), but Helen can try. “Why not?”

“I’m trying,” Shiro groans. “But he’s way outta my league.”

“What, he’s some rich guy?”

“No, he’s just…” Shiro sighs. Helen has never heard him sigh this much before. “He’s amazing. Really smart and funny and he’s kind of quiet, you know, at first, but once he gets comfortable… Anyway, I don’t wanna scare him off, or you know, bother him if he really isn’t interested.”

Helen doubts that the boy in that picture with Shiro with the sharp features and soft expression isn’t interested. Still, there’s a difference between being understanding and encouraging him in questionably-advised romance. “What’s this guy’s name?”

“Keith.”

 _Keith._ The way he says it is unlike the way Helen has said anyone’s name, not even Shiro’s dad’s—which is maybe a good thing, come to think of it. 

“Oh my god, he’s calling.”

“Don’t you talk?”

“We text. Everyone texts. But he’s calling!” 

“Well, don’t be rude! Pick it up!”

“Yeah, okay—I can do this—bye, Mom!” 

A few minutes later, when Shiro texts her that he’s got a date, Helen feels she can only blame herself for setting off some kind of cosmic chain of action.

*

Helen doesn’t hear from Shiro for a week, and then two. This is normal for young adults and their parents, she reminds herself, even if weekly is _their_ normal. She’s determined not to hover, because while he still has to keep close tabs on his health, Shiro is perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He just has a lot of homework and projects, plus he’s applying for jobs this year.

It’s not that he’s forgotten about her in his boy-craziness. 

In the meantime, in between the half-days that she goes into work, Helen watches all the neighborhood goings-on from the window of her home office. The young family next door has a birthday party for their kid; Helen creates user accounts for the new employee she’ll train next week. The elderly couple diagonal from her has an fire truck visit that turns out to be for their cat; Helen fields yet another request to send a forgotten e-mail password via e-mail. (She sets up a secure password link instead.)

And across the street, Aiko spruces up the house. She pressure washes the walls, hangs a wreath on the front door, paints the fence, puts in a maple tree and some planter boxes. She seems to be doing everything herself, which Helen has to admit is pretty impressive. She must be fit, what with that and her long morning bike rides. Helen ups her own home workouts so that she’s doing her step aerobics on the patio until her neighbor returns. 

Aiko often brings her dog out with her while she works, tied to the fence. Helen watches it while she weeds her own yard, wishing she could bring her turtle outside for company, too. The one time Shiro convinced her to try that, years ago, the turtle hid in her log until she was brought back inside. 

“Her name is Penny,” Aiko calls over when she catches Helen looking. “She’s shy but friendly!”

There’s no real reason not to accept the implicit invitation, so Helen dusts off her hands and crosses the street to say hello. Penny only barks twice as she walks over.

Aiko is really stunning up close, now that Helen isn’t focused on the newness her general presence. She’s warm and chatty enough to make the kind of neighborly small talk that Helen generally tries to avoid tolerable, even enjoyable, and not so chatty that Helen feels trapped. Naturally, they get to talking about their respective gardens, and Aiko shows what she’s planted so far: dahlias, eggplant, mizuna, and melons, the same kind Helen plants every year.

“A woman of good taste,” says Aiko. 

“Too bad, otherwise I would give you some. I always have way too many melons,” Helen complains proudly. “I can’t eat them all by myself.” 

“I always prune off all the baby melons except one on each vine,” Aiko says. “That way they’re sweeter.” 

Of course. That’s a standard method; Helen just can’t bring herself to kill the tiny baby melons, and can’t let herself admit that lest she show signs of weakness. She crosses her arms. “I don’t like them too sweet anyway.”

Aiko gives her a funny look. Helen holds her gaze, determined not to buckle or blush, until Aiko laughs. It’s a very nice sound for someone with a tiny dog and questionable gardening techniques. “We will have to try each other’s! See how you like these melons.”

Helen finds herself smiling as she walks back across the street. She can’t wait to show off her melons, and her tomatoes and sweet peas and all her other crops and flowers. She’ll grow the best garden she’s ever grown.

This will be fun. 

*

She sends pictures of her plants in progress to Shiro, who sends back pictures of the houseplant Helen gave him when he went back to school. The poor thing’s been struggling on the brink of death the past two years, but it seems to be recovering now, more green than brown with new leaves pushing out. 

Helen suspects a second plant keeper has had a hand. She imagines Shiro and Keith hovering over it while gazing at each other like they were in the library and shakes her head.

“You’re going hard on the fruit and veggies this year,” Shiro says when he finally calls. 

“I have a reputation to uphold.” She explains the situation briefly, her head filled with visions of sprawling vines and vibrant blooms that her neighbor admires in awe. She’s not so distracted, though, that she’s forgotten where they left off their last call.

“How’s your boyfriend?”

“He’s not my—” Shiro sighs. 

Helen frowns. Aren’t they raising a houseplant together? “I thought that you had a date.”

“That’s different.” 

So confusing, these things. “He’s good, though?”

“Yeah,” Shiro says dreamily. “He’s good.” 

This romance stuff is ridiculous. Good thing Helen is too old for all that.

*

She’s too old and too busy, what with the spring dawning and the seeds sprouting and an unofficial garden competition to win.

She sees Aiko outside when they’re both tending to their plants in the mornings and evenings and weekends. They chat across the narrow road from their respective yards. One warm Saturday, Aiko offers iced plum tea on her porch, and Helen ends up hanging out there for half the day. She even helps carry some bags of mulch. (Aiko is strong, but Helen is too.)

After that, visits become more frequent. 

Aiko is what Helen is pretty sure is called a badass. She grew up helping her parents fix things around the house, and she’ll take on any new project with just some Internet tutorials and common sense. She’s looking for work now, but as a librarian she’s had to deal with all kinds of wacky people, some gross, some dangerous. One time, before she moved out of Shiro’s university town, she was a consultant for someone she suspects was an actual super spy intelligence agent, who was researching Morocco and high tech weapons. 

Helen pulls out the worst stories from her job in return, though they’re less about her valor and competence and more about the incredible _in_ competence of her co-workers.

“Do you like it?” Aiko asks one day while she trims Helen’s fig tree. Helen has to admit that she is good at pruning things. 

“It was not my dream,” Helen says, “but I like that I’m helping make things work, and I can do a lot of it from home. That made a big difference when I was watching my son.”

Aiko nods. “The first few years must be difficult when you are on your own.”

“Not just the first years,” Helen explains. “Shiro… he was sick a lot. And he was a troublemaker! So it was easier when I could be home to look out for him.”

“And now he’s all grown up.”

“All grown up and seeing this… this Keith guy.” She shakes her head. “Does he know when to get Shiro a hot compress? How spicy to make his favorite kimchi hot pot? Does he know that when Shiro turned six, he blurted out his birthday wish after he blew out the candles and announced that he wanted to meet an alien?”

“That’s what he has you for,” Aiko says. “To tell all of his embarrassing stories.”

“I guess so.”

“You’ve done a lot for him.”

“He’s my son,” says Helen. “I’d do anything for him.”

She moves the hose spray from the roses to the peonies. Aiko takes a drink of the plum tea she brought over. “So what _was_ your dream?” 

Helen smiles at her younger self. “When I was little, I wanted to be a singer. I wanted to be beautiful and talented and famous.”

“You still could,” Aiko says with a grin. “Anyone can put themselves on YouTube.” 

Helen shakes her head. “I don’t want to be famous anymore. I just want to be happy.”

“How wise.” 

“Yes, wise and happy. That’s me.”

Aiko hums. “And beautiful and talented?” 

Helen sprays her with the hose. 

*

“You seem… sparklier lately,” Shiro observes a few months into this whole situation.

They’ve gotten back on a weekly call schedule, which soothes some of the worries Helen tries to keep quiet. They talk mostly about her garden and her neighbor and Shiro’s school and job searching, which recently landed him an R and D position at Altea Industries. Helen breathes easier knowing that her son will be gainfully employed. 

Helen frowns. “What, you mean I wasn’t sparkly before?” She looks down at her cardigan, with its rhinestones embroidered into the argyle pattern. “I am always sparkly.”

“Sure, but now you’re more.” 

“Maybe you are just seeing more sparkles now that you got your boyfriend.” 

She means it as a tease, but Shiro just laughs all soft and silly and says, “… Yeah, maybe.” 

So they _are_ boyfriends now. Huh. 

“Speaking of which, I can’t talk long,” Shiro says. “I, uh, I have a date tonight.” 

Apparently, dating doesn’t mean boyfriends, but boyfriends still means dates. 

“What are you wearing?” she asks, trying to be interested and supportive. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

Shiro answers point by point (something casual but nice, dinner and stargazing on his roof) and when Helen tells him to sweep the roof beforehand, he laughs. “You’re even more nervous than I am.”

“Just want to make sure you’re treating this Keith guy right,” she says, because it’s easier than saying the reverse. 

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I swear,” Shiro promises. “What are you up to tonight?”

“My neighbor invited me to dinner.” 

“Oh? The one that you’re trying to impress with your melons? I didn’t realize you had a date too.”

“I’m not trying to impress her,” Helen says, checking her hair in the mirror. She’s got more gray in the past few years to soften out the white streak in the front. It’s kind of cool-yet-dignified, she thinks. “And it’s not a—” 

Is it a date? 

“You just seem like you’re close.”

“She’s a good neighbor.”

Shiro hums. “I’m glad you’ve got someone looking out for you.”

“I can look out for myself,” Helen sniffs. 

“I know you can,” says Shiro. “But it’s nice knowing you don’t have to.” 

“Go get ready for your date,” Helen says before she says something sappy. 

*

Her own dinner with Aiko is really nice. She sets up hot pot with vegetables from her garden, exuberant dahlias decorating the ends of the table. It’s intimate and delicious and a lot of fun.

Helen wouldn’t mind if it was a date. Maybe this romance stuff has something going for it after all.

*

In retrospect, Helen should have seen it coming given the trajectory of the past several months when Shiro announces that he and Keith are moving in together. 

But this has never happened before, not with any of the other guys Shiro’s ever dated. She’s let him do his thing, because there’s no telling him otherwise, as his suitors have come and gone from his life, some she’s met once or twice and some that didn’t even get to that point. But she’s never really grappled with the inevitability that eventually, one of them would stick around. 

She supposes she ought to be happy for Shiro, but they haven’t actually talked that much about Keith, besides his general existence; she’s been carefully not-prying, and Shiro has never exactly been forthcoming about his relationships. What kind of person is Keith? What kind of people are his family? What is Shiro getting himself into? 

The past twenty-five years of Helen’s life flash before her eyes.

“This is serious business,” she says. 

“I’m serious about Keith.” 

Helen frowns. She’s going to get new wrinkles from this Shiro-and-Keith business. “Look, right now you got your first job out of school and you’re young and passionate”—she can practically hear Shiro rolling his eyes—“but you have to think about the future. You don’t know where life will take you. You don’t know if you will be compatible long-term.”

“Yeah, that’s why we’re moving in together,” Shiro says slowly. “You know, see how our living habits work out and how we make decisions together. See how things go.”

It all sounds very mature, but still.

“Shiro,” she says, “I just want to make sure that you aren’t cutting off opportunities for yourself. Make sure he’s going to support you and what you want in life.”

“Keith isn’t Dad, Mom,” Shiro says sharply. “And I’m not you.”

The words hover in the air, digital-fuzzy and harsh.

“I’ll decide about this Keith myself,” Helen declares, and she hangs up.

*

“I know what you need,” Aiko says when Helen turns up with a jar of pickled daikon and her head full of swirling, half-formed thoughts about life and love. “Karaoke night!”

She sets up her home machine and lays out the the pickles and rice crackers and beer. As the opening chords come through the speakers and the lyrics start scrolling, Helen turns to face Aiko, microphone in hand, and feels more alive than she has in years. She can’t remember the last time she sang in front of someone—maybe a family Christmas party?—and the part of her that loves glamor and attention rises from its slumber. 

Shiro would be proud of her.

“High score!” she shouts when the results flash on screen. 

“Not for long,” Aiko says, smirking as she picks the next song.

They belt through the classics from their youth, Penny yowling along with them when Aiko’s favorites come on. As the night progresses, they switch from beer to sake, and Helen grows warmer and more affectionate, throwing an arm around Aiko.

When Aiko flips to the sappy love ballads and says, “I want to hear this in your voice,” it’s a good thing Helen is already flushed bright from the alcohol. 

Helen is a few shots in and totally in her element when she scrolls over a real _old_ oldie and eagerly presses play. Maybe she’s just had a little too much to drink, or a little too much change in her life lately, but she’s not prepared for the wave of nostalgia that crashes over her. Her sake-warm face heats further, and her eyes start to screw up, because this song is the kind of thing her mom used to sing to her, and—and—

“… and I used to sing to Shiro,” she says with a hiccup, unable to fight the tears streaming down her cheeks, “when he wouldn’t sleep at night, and he learned how to sing it too without knowing any of the words…” 

And now he’s twenty-five. She’s come to terms time and time again that his life has its own path; she’s said goodbye countless times already, when he left for college the first time and the second and all those nights in between when his health was so precarious that neither of them knew if he’d wake up the next morning. But it’s hard every day, especially now that he’s got this boyfriend, so he doesn’t need her anymore. 

“I don’t think that’s true,” Aiko says, rubbing her back, and Helen realizes she’s been rambling. She’s not sure how she ended up on the couch, but now that she’s here, getting sleepy and clinging to Aiko who’s solid and warm and smells nice, she’s never going to move. “I don’t think you do either. Heck, I still call my mom sometimes just to know she’s there.” 

Helen gulps down on another sob. Their relationship was strained to say the least, but sometimes she wishes she could talk to her parents again.

“But now… maybe you can think less about what he needs, and more about what you want.” 

The thought is too much for Helen to understand right now, but she nods anyway. It’s the last thing she remembers before she drifts off. 

*

She wakes, back stiff and head throbbing, to sunlight streaming in around unfamiliar curtains, an unfamiliar blanket tucked around her. There’s water and Advil on the coffee table, which she gulps gratefully. 

“Morning,” says Aiko as she walks out of the kitchen. 

“Morning,” Helen mumbles back. She waves at the hangover cure. “Thanks.”

Aiko nods and moves to open the curtains fully. Helen winces, rubbing her temples, but the sunlight does make her feel more awake and make the previous night feel a little less real, like it’s fading away with the darkness. She can just go home and get back to her regular life with her plants and her computer and none of this funny business.

“Helen,” says Aiko, “is that your son?” 

Or not. 

Helen scrambles up off the couch, ignoring her headache as she joins Aiko at the window. “Not just my son,” she breathes. “My son and his boyfriend.” 

They’re on her porch, dressed a touch nicer than the average soon-to-be-college-grads, Shiro tall and broad like her and Keith like his complement. As Shiro puts his phone up to his ear, Helen’s rings. 

“What do I do?” she hisses, yanking the curtain shut.

“You’re not hiding from your son in my house,” says Aiko. 

Helen does the quickest washing up she’s ever done before she puts her shoes on and slips out the door.

“Hi, Mom!” Shiro calls when he sees her walking out. “There you are! I was getting worried about you.”

“No need to worry about me,” Helen says with a wave of her hand. “What are you doing here?”

“I know you wanted to meet Keith, and I just met his family, and I really wanted to introduce you, too, and we thought—” Keith nudges him—” _I_ thought, it would be a nice surprise…” He trails off, taking in her disheveled appearance and how she’s overdressed for a weekend morning. “What were you doing over there?”

“Oh,” Helen says, searching for a reason that’s not _I got drunk at karaoke and slept it off at my neighbor’s house who I really like_ , because as much as she _would_ like him to meet Aiko, these aren’t the circumstances she’d choose. “I was just…”

“We had a great night,” calls Aiko from her doorway. “Have fun!” She waves and shuts the door.

“Um,” says Keith.

They all stare at the house across the street. 

“Is this—are we interrupting?” says Shiro. “Should we not have come?”

Helen turns to squint at the two of them. Keith looks like both his fight and flight instincts have been activated simultaneously; Shiro looks like he’s trying to shrink to Keith’s size. 

Someday, she thinks, this will be a funny story at somebody’s wedding. 

She shakes that thought. Way too soon.

“Don’t be silly,” she says, stepping forward to hug Shiro despite her last night’s funk; he’s put her through worse. “I am always happy to see you.”

“Sorry we caught you, um, unawares.”

“You should surprise me more often. Then I’ll be prepared.”

When they part, Shiro takes Keith’s hand. “Mom, this is Keith.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” he says, holding out his free hand for her to shake. 

“It will be good to get to know you,” she says neutrally. 

The mysterious Keith. Is he good enough for her son? Strong enough to carry him through hard times? Stubborn enough to hold his own? There’s only one way to find out.

“Well, now that you’re here, let’s put you to work.” 

*

Fortunately, Helen keeps her house tidy out of habit, but there are a few seasonal chores that could use extra hands. They clean out the gutters, scrub down the oven, and dust behind Shiro’s old trophies, much to his embarrassment. It gives them something to do other than sit around talking at each other. 

Keith is a competent, cooperative, and quietly enthusiastic worker, Helen observes, although how much of that is because he’s meeting his boyfriend’s mother, she can’t be sure. They’re left alone together cleaning out her turtle’s box while Shiro’s in the bathroom. The turtle is people-shy, but she seems to take a liking to Keith, stretching her neck out towards him. 

“She’s got a cool pattern,” Keith says, admiring. 

“That’s why I got her,” Helen says. “Such a long time ago! I’ve had her since before Shiro.”

“So she’s the bossy first child.”

“Yes, she’s in charge around here.” Helen huffs out a laugh. “Never named her, though.”

Keith hums, considering. “If I ever get a dog, I don’t think I’d want to name them, either. It doesn’t seem right to impose that on them.”

“Exactly!” says Helen. “And it’s not like they can change it if they want, like Shiro decided to go by Shiro.”

“I want to hear about that sometime,” Keith says, smiling and looking surprised about it. Then he visibly steels himself. “Ms. Shirogane—”

“Helen.”

“—Helen. I just wanted to say, I’ve never done this before—you know, meet the family and all—so if there’s anything you want to ask or anything that I should be doing…”

She thinks about it for a minute, all her questions and qualms. They won’t go away anytime soon, she realizes, not with any words Keith could say right now. Only with time. 

“There’s nothing that you need to prove to me,” she says. They’ll have enough of their own ups and downs; she won’t be one of those troubles. “What matters is between you and Shiro, and how you will support each other.” 

“I’ll be there for him, whatever it takes,” Keith vows, “as many times as it takes. And I know he’ll do the same for me.” 

The way he says it, Helen can’t help but believe him.

She stays true to her word later when they all sit down to a well-earned dinner (summer squash pasta that Shiro and Keith prepared while she was banished to the couch to put her feet up) and they get down to more basic getting-to-know-you conversations.

“So, Keith, what do your parents do?”

“I grew up with my uncles,” he says, and Helen is determined _not_ to be alarmed that she won’t get to assess his mother. It’s not like Shiro has the most conventional family either; she can judge these uncles instead. “They’re businessmen.” 

“Very respectable,” Shiro adds. 

“I guess,” Keith says with a laugh. “It’s nothing too exciting. They travel a lot. Besides that, they don’t talk about it much.”

Helen can relate to avoiding boring work talk with family.

“I dunno, they made it sound like it’s pretty cutthroat,” says Shiro. “As far as business goes.”

Keith snorts. “They were trying to impress you.”

“Oh,” says Shiro. 

Keith leans over and pecks him on the cheek. Then he glances at Helen, like he forgot she was there, and blushes harder than Shiro. It’s kind of weirdly sweet. 

“Let me know if your uncles are ever looking into life insurance,” Helen says. She doesn’t offer this to many people, but frequent international travel can raise insurance rates exorbitantly, even if all you’re doing is sitting in meetings. “No pressure, of course, but I can get them a good deal.” 

“I… thank you?” 

“That means she likes you,” Shiro stage-whispers. 

“Oh,” says Keith, and he turns red again as Shiro plants a kiss on his hair. 

*

Shiro’s right, though; as it turns out, Helen does like Keith.

The two of them are young and infatuated with each other, yes, but there’s a sturdiness between them that gives her confidence. They move as a team, trusting and teasing. Keith hides none of his feelings in the way he looks at Shiro and talks to him and talks _about_ him when Shiro’s in the bathroom and Keith is left alone with Helen. He clearly thinks the world of Shiro, as he should. 

And Shiro—Shiro seems happy in a way Helen hasn’t seen before. He’s not an _un_ happy person; he seems content day to day, and she knows he cultivates things in his life that make him so. But around Keith, his vibrancy feels more natural, like it takes less effort. At the very back of her mind, behind all the concerns about Shiro’s education and employment and health, she’s always worried most of all about him inheriting her loneliness. Because as much as she doesn’t need a husband or a—a partner around or anything, there sure were times when she wanted someone to turn to, someone to share in her sorrow or joy.

Although, she thinks, she’s not so alone anymore. 

*

After dinner, Keith looks like he’s ready to fight her over doing the dishes. 

“You can do it next time,” she says, beckoning Shiro over instead as she shoos Keith off to go wash up; the drive is long enough that they’re staying overnight. 

“Next time,” Keith echoes back as he leaves, looking flustered but pleased at the promise.

Shiro smiles after him in that soft way he seems to do a lot. “I really love him.” 

“I can tell,” says Helen, and Shiro’s expression goes even dopier. “He feels the same.”

They start in on the dishes, washing and drying, working quietly side by side. It’s comfortable, an old pattern well worn. 

“I’m sorry it took me so long to introduce you,” Shiro says, glancing over at her. “I guess I was nervous. I really wanted you to like him.” 

“He suits you.”

“Yeah.” That quiet happiness is obvious in his voice. “He does.” 

She straightens up to take him in. He’s no longer the bean sprout he was for so long; she has to look up at him now, if just barely, her son who’s grown sure of himself and what he wants. “Look at you, graduating and you got a job and your own apartment with your boyfriend,” she says. “I’m proud of you, Shiro.”

Shiro leans back against the counter, dish towel clutched in his hand. It doesn’t take her more than a second to realize that his head is bowed to hide that fact that he’s crying.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

“I just…” Shiro takes a breath. “I never knew… if it was enough, what I’m doing, after everything you did for me, everything you sacrificed…” 

Helen takes the towel from him and pulls him into a half-hug. “You are pursuing your dreams. You found somebody you want to build your life with. That’s all I can ask for, as a mother. As a parent.” She gives a wobbly smile. “You are happy. So I’m happy.”

Shiro pats her arm, and they just stand there for a few moments, the dishes half-done beside them. Helen hands him one of the clean unused napkins she keeps in her pocket, and he blows his nose. 

“You deserve your own happiness,” he says, returning to the dishes.

She raises her eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know,” Shiro says, mirroring her expression. 

Helen sighs. They’re supposed to be talking about him, not her not-yet-maybe-there neighborhood romance. “I’m just an old lady.”

“Mom, please.” Shiro laughs softly, shaking his head. “You look great.”

“Lucky you,” she says.

“Yeah, lucky me.” He elbows her. “You don’t even get senior discounts yet.”

There’s no arguing with that. 

“Well, then,” she says. “What did you think of her?”

Shiro taps his chin. “I think that it was unchivalrous of her not to walk you home.” 

Helen whaps him with the towel. “We’re not talking about that.” 

“Oh, how the tables turn,” Shiro says, laughing, as she chases him out of the kitchen.

*

In the morning, at Shiro’s smug suggestion, Helen invites Aiko over to join them for brunch. She brings Penny with her, along with her first melon of the season, and Helen harvests one of hers, and they try to rope the boys into a blind taste test.

“No, no,” Shiro says, waving his hands in front of him. “I won’t have bloodshed and tears on my hands.” 

Keith just pours the melon chunks from one bowl into the other and mixes them together. 

“Who cares, anyway,” says Helen as she bites into a piece of melon, provenance unknown. It’s delicious—juicy and sweet, but not so sweet that the sugar overwhelms the fragrance. “A melon is a melon.”

Aiko grins cheekily in that way that looks _so_ good on her. “You’re just saying that because you like mine better.”

Helen mimes dumping the melon bowl on her lap. 

“Worse than my uncles,” she hears Keith mutter.

“I think she’s great,” Shiro says later when he hugs Helen goodbye by his car. “And I think she’s great for _you_.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“She brings you out. Makes you be more you.” He smiles as he slides into his seat, Keith already buckled up next to him. “She suits you.” 

Helen wraps her arm around Aiko’s shoulders as her son—her sons—drive away. Aiko lays her hand over hers and leans in.

“They’re in good hands,” Helen says with a sigh. “Both of them.”

Aiko hums. “You know who else has good hands?” 

Helen shoves her away, and then she chases her, laughing, into the house.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading <3 kudos and comments are always a gift! twitter [@leftishark_](https://www.twitter.com/leftishark_)


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